


Mission Accomplished

by nepetaleijon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, F/F, Such drama, agent!Rose, barista!Feferi, le gasp, makeupartist!Eridan, singer!Kanaya, singing is outlawed, this is pretty gay, will rose turn her in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nepetaleijon/pseuds/nepetaleijon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Lalonde has been sent after Kanaya Maryam by the government, for reasons unknown.  Why is Kanaya wanted by law?  Will Rose turn her in?  Much drama and probably some fluff to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: Who is she?

It was hot and I was sweating as I followed her from a distance, blending into the crowd. I wasn’t sure why I was following her; that wasn’t disclosed to me by my superiors, it never was. Get in, observe, get out. That was the motto I lived and worked by and I took careful note of every person I was sent to trace. I had been watching her all day, and had been paying attention to every action. 

She moved with a distinct swish of hips, a posture that screamed of belonging and knowing exactly what she was doing. I knew it was an act; she hadn’t walked the same way leaving her house this morning. She was faking it, which meant that we were approaching our goal. I smiled. It was a real adventure- I had chosen this job for a reason. I adjusted my bangs to hide my eyes and slipped just behind a group of five obnoxiously loud college kids, following them as though I weren’t paying enough attention to my friends to keep up. She glanced behind her only once, turning the corner with a toss of short black hair. I lengthened my strides to keep up.

\---

It was fairly late when I turned down the alley. It was growing dark, and my skirt was making swishing noises around my ankles. Loud noise echoed from the houses down the row, and shadowy figures sat in the doorways of poorly-lit homes. It wasn’t the nicest part of town, but that was for a reason. I ducked through an archway on the side of the road, grimy cobblestone breaking beneath my shoes. It was a narrower alley, made only for foot traffic, and it was probably not the best place to be found on a weekend night. People sat in the corners, puffing on all sorts of things, getting to all sorts of activities- I grimaced and quickened my pace towards the lighted building at the very end. Buzzing neon letters spelled Jules in pink capitals overhead the grimy establishment. At best, it was known as a bar that only the seediest in town frequented. At worst, it was a whore house, a place for things illegal and for deals you wouldn’t want to make anywhere else in town. It was the ideal place to work.

I slipped in through the doors. The bar was nondescript, filthy, and hot. Bodies crowded the floor in a writhing mass, a fight had broken out in the corner, and it was difficult to slip through the crowd without getting anything on my long, red skirt. It was my favorite, and I was wearing it tonight for luck. This was my biggest crowd yet, and I had to make sure that I was at my best. I got to the edge of the crowd and started climbing the stairs to the second floor, wincing as every stair creaked beneath my feet, threatening to snap under my weight. They had never collapsed before, but I was just waiting for the day they finally gave out. I reached the top, all in one piece, and headed down the hallway. I always turned to the third door on the left, but I had learned since my first few weeks here to knock before entering. No drunken screams or stumbled footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door, so I hesitantly swung it open. Safe. Breathing out a sigh of relief and trying to look as casual as possible, I slipped into the closet on the side of the room.

The closet was a small, dark affair that smelled of mothballs and sweat. The clothes in here had molded and would probably crumble under anybody’s fingers; it was doubtful that they had seen the light of day since the beginning of the bar’s lifetime and it was even more doubtful they would ever see the light of day before the end of the bar’s lifetime. I crinkled my nose at the horrendous fabrics; who would style a dress in such a way? I cleared my head of these unnecessary thoughts as I rapped against the closet’s back: three short, a long, another short knock. It swung inward as I stepped back, revealing a small room built into the side of the building. There was a chair set in front of a counter, wigs sat on stands scattered about various tables throughout, makeup palettes and brushes littered every surface and a mirror hung with a pink curtain sat before the chair. It was well lit, quiet, and had an annex, it appeared, as this was where the room’s sole occupant appeared from.

I had long grown used to the artist’s appearance; he may have been bejeweled and caped with overly gelled hair streaked with purple, but despite his being a generally pompous douche, he knew what he was doing with a makeup brush. He had asked me to call him Dualscar on my first visit and I had asked him to call me Mary, though we both knew that neither of us had actually given our real names. This was absolutely necessary; if one of us was compromised, we wouldn’t be betraying the other. We had a wary alliance, and that was probably stretching it: the dislike was palpable between us but we got along together because we both enjoyed what we did too much.

“The usual?” he asked me, bustling around and gathering brushes and lipsticks. I considered for a moment, head tilted to the side. I liked his stage makeup, but-

“Make me unforgettable,” I decided, smirk curling the corners of my lips.

\---

I settled myself into a table at the shadowy edges of the bar, puffing air out of my cheeks and upward into my bangs, seeming like one who had been at work all day and was now taking a long-needed rest. This was a seedy place and I knew this was why I had been following the woman all day. Something big was about to happen- that wasn’t the question. The question was one of what. I couldn’t help but be curious; it was in my nature to want to understand exactly why I was doing what I was doing. This had been a poor job decision, I decided suddenly, corners of my mouth curling up into a smile. This job was entirely secrets, and though I was good at keeping them, I wasn’t good at having them kept from me. I studied my reflection in the dusty surface of the table top, tapping perfectly manicured nails against its surface. I wondered, despite myself, how soon the reason I had been assigned this job would appear to me. Ah well, it was part of my job to be patient, and I had waited for this night for days now. 

I had just gotten up to purchase a drink to nurse for the night, to take the edge off, when the lights dimmed- or at least, one of them got brighter and made the already-darkened lights appear dimmer. The crowd hushed expectantly; they had clearly done this before and knew what was about to happen. My gaze followed the beam of the spotlight to a single wooden stool, leaning slightly on three legs, set just behind a microphone. My breath caught- this couldn’t be what I thought it was going to be, could it?

She strode out onstage and the breath was stolen from my lungs. She was gorgeous; she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my entire life. Her eyes were lined, her lips were black, silver glitter made the bridge of her nose look like it had been sprinkled with speckles of fairy dust. Her dark hair was smoothed, her forest green shirt made her pale skin shine like moonlight, and her fingers were long and smooth and painted red. Her skirt just served to top off her perfection: it brought out all of her curves perfectly, falling to the floor in smooth red waves. She wrapped her long fingers around the mic, lips curling up into a soft smile as she began to speak. She had a rich, full, deep voice; each word seemed to carry weight.

“Hello, all of you. I am the Rainbow Drinker, and tonight I’m going to start us off with something slow.” She perches on the edge of the stool, humming a little to clear her throat, and I was spellbound. She had me captivated in a sentence. 

The first note dropped from her mouth, spilling across the still, silent air as we listened, entirely immersed in her performance. She wove tunes out of noises I couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and I immediately understood why I was here. Music had been illegal in our country for centuries now, and what she was doing definitely qualified. But it was the single most incredible thing I’d ever heard, and the way she had her eyes half lidded, the way her voice had us all swaying as though under a spell, convinced me that, despite what I had done for years now, and despite all of my training, I could not and would not turn her in. In my eyes, she was adding beauty to the world. I didn’t understand, in this moment, why music had been taken away from us- this was absolutely phenomenal. Serendipitous. She was doing something she loved, it was clear from the way she sang and even from the way she had refused to give up her passion, despite the government officials sure to punish her if she were ever found out. I shook my head, blinking- I was the government official. 

Reminded of why I was there, I closed my eyes, sitting heavily. I had decided not to turn her in, true, but what was I going to do if they found me out? My decision would impact us both, and though I would take the brunt of the punishment, the fact that she was singing would mean instant death for the both of us. That was the way things were where we lived. I had delivered many a death sentence before; this shouldn’t have been any different. And yet, I was touched by the Rainbow Drinker in a flowing red skirt, creating beauty out of pure nothingness. In this light, we were all transformed. Even the most despicable of us in the crowd, reduced to a single point of light in the swaying crowd, eyes closed. How had she managed to do that to us? She commanded power, authority on the stage. That was it, then, that was the reason why it had been banned. Power. I nodded to myself, lips pursed, eyes narrowed on the woman on the stage. Power belonging to anybody other than the government was unacceptable. That was why this woman had to go.


	2. What now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we get more background on our singer.... and Rose finds out just what she's in for

All too soon, her voice faded, the last note hanging in the air for a heartbeat of silence. I watched as she nodded her head to us and stepped down, off the stage into the back. The audience applauded noisily, turning back to raucous and inappropriate activities in the darkened bar. I drummed my fingers on the table, considering my options. I had to continue trailing this woman for another week; I would have to report in as early as tonight about surveillance. Alright, I could do that. I could make something up. I knew better than to approach a subject; that would get me in trouble faster than I could blink, and she would notice me trailing her later in the week. And yet, something about her was drawing me in, and I desperately wanted to know more about her. Where had she learned to sing like that? What about this was worth instant death, if she were found out? How long had she been getting away with this? Sitting in a corner alone was making me conspicuous, so I stood and made my way to the bar, pushing through bodies writhing on the floor to a stool. Hopping up, I made small talk with the barista, wondering where in the world the singer could’ve gone.

\--

I shook out my limbs, releasing any tension or anxiety that had been building throughout my performance. It had gone well tonight, if the cheering were any indication, and I was sure to be invited back for later dates. It was always popularity based; it had been difficult to get the first gig, but every time got easier to book. Something had been off about tonight, though, and I really couldn’t put my finger on it. Something different, and it wasn’t just the size of the crowd. Not for the first time, I wondered if this was worth the risk. I considered the possibility of having been caught by the government. But wouldn’t they have seized me in the act? Taken a video as proof? It was mandatory that all cameras and phones be left outside of the establishment for that very reason; none of the patrons could enter with something that could be used to report illegal activity. And for good reason, too- most of the activities in the bar were illegal. The last thing anybody wanted was for Jules to be shut down.

I returned to the upper level, knocking on the third door and slipping into the closet as casually as I could. Not that there were any cameras or people to witness, but I felt it was best to be as careful as possible, regardless. You never knew when somebody would turn on you, turn you over. I had seen it happen in families, between close friends, after years and years of trust. Really, you couldn’t believe anything. I sighed, plopping down in a chair as Dualscar removed all traces of stage makeup from my face. Neither of us could afford to be caught; not tonight, not any night. It was exhausting, really. I shed my performance skirt for a dress that glittered in the light, and the makeup artist worked his magic on my face so that I looked entirely different from both the girl who had entered the establishment earlier that evening, and the performer who had taken the stage a matter of minutes ago. I looked myself over in the mirror, deciding to spend at least an hour on the floor below before leaving, to lower suspicions. My life was entirely precautionary measures. What a way to live.

 

I had grown up on the outskirts of the neighboring country, out in the open land where there was nobody to talk to and nothing to do for a living. My mother sang often: setting the laundry out to dry, decorating the home, gathering for mealtimes, walking to work. I had grown up listening to music, and creating artwork from anything I could find. I learned to sew at a young age, and became passionate in designing clothing. Whenever we had the money, my mom would return from her work, weary, basket full of coarse cloth in basic colors. I was always thrilled- it wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. I made dyes out of plants nearby; I drew out sketches of dresses and ties and skirts and collared blouses. My stitches, messy in earlier years, grew smaller and neater as my plans and drawings became more and more detailed and intricate. Whatever I could create with my hands, I did. I pieced together scraps of fabric for patchwork jackets, for the knees of jeans, for the shirt collars and for shorts. I tried to waste as little as possible. When I tired of designing clothing, I would decorate our home in the most vibrant colors I could find, hiding the chipped paint and sagging walls under tents of fabric that billowed in the wind and shone in the light. 

At fifteen, I was allowed to accompany my mom into the city in order to sell my fashions. I worked in a corner of the market as a tailor, hemming and patching clothes overnight. Sometimes, if I was brought fabric and some basic guidelines, I would create a piece of clothing for one of those wealthy enough to afford such things. I did my best, and I enjoyed what I did. It brought in enough money that my mom and I didn’t go hungry most days, even on the days my mother took off for sick days, when she was in so much pain she couldn’t get out of bed. I always felt guilty for leaving her, but she insisted that I was doing the right thing. She had such pride in me, such high expectations, such love. Her voice was always better than mine was.

She caught me, once, humming over my sewing. She made me stand up, made me sing scales until my throat hurt, nodded approvingly. She looked me in the eye, told me that I could make something out of myself with a voice like that. She coached me daily afterwards, making me run through arpeggios and coaxing me into wider ranges. My tone improved with time, and I could tell that my mother approved. The last day I saw her, she nodded and told me that she could teach me no more, with tears in her eyes. I went to work as normal, hood up in the bitter winds, cloth bundled in my arms. When I returned at the end of the day, eyes and nose streaming, the door was swinging open, the lights off. The house was empty and uninviting, and I knew then and there that she would not be back home. I piled all the supplies I could in a piece of fabric, tying the corners so that it was a bundle easily carried. They would be here for me next. I was gone before nightfall.

\--  
It had been maybe half an hour, and I still hadn’t seen the lovely singer -not that she was lovely, or that I thought she was especially lovely, or anything like that; I just thought she was aesthetically pleasing, with short hair and those green eyes… I shook my head, to clear my unwieldy thoughts. Where could she have gone? I swilled the liquid in my glass around, peering into it as though it held all the answers to the universe. I wasn’t quite convinced that it didn’t, which was the problem. I had been an alcoholic in past years, ones that I didn’t want to revisit, ever. I downed the drink in a few long gulps. No good dwelling on the past. I had a mission; I had things to do, and my head was slightly fuzzy, but not enough that I could make the mistake of ordering more drinks before the week was up. I sighed and rested my head in my arms, feeling the cool surface of the bar under my forehead.

“Long week?” somebody asked, a body moving to settle on the stool next to me. I closed my eyes, breathing out a sigh. 

“You could say that.”

A sympathetic sort of huff came from the body beside me. I lifted my head, resting my elbows on the bar and my chin in my hands. I pushed the hair off my face and turned to face my company. She was chatting up the barista, and there was no doubt it was my singer. Of course it was. I sighed again. This day just got longer and longer. At least I hadn’t lost her, but now it would be impossible to trail her without her noticing. If I told my superiors that I had been spotted, though, they would send out another agent to follow her, and then she’d be turned in for sure- and so, probably, would I. What a pickle I was in. This was an utter nightmare.

“Thanks, Fef, you’re a lifesaver. What would I do without you?” the singer asked, picking up her drink and smiling at the woman behind the bar. 

“Ah, it’s no problem. How’re the designs for that wedding dress you’re making coming, Maryam?” My jaw dropped open. No way this was the one and only Kanaya Maryam, famous designer and multimillionaire? This was a huge deal. The scandal, if it got out that she was singing in a dingy bar, of all places, of all things? Shit. What the fucking hell was I going to do?

“You’re shitting me,” I turn to her, deadpan. She has the decency to blush and look down at her hands, clasped on the table.

“Ah, yes, I don’t believe I introduced myself. I am Kanaya Maryam, and you are?” Before I could think about what I was doing, my hand shot out.

“Lalonde. Rose Lalonde.” Why had I given her my real name? I barely noticed that Kanaya was taking my hand to shake it. She didn’t let go right away, though, she scrutinized me through narrowed eyes.

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Lalonde.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yayyyyy chapter 2!! sorry that it was pretty short; the next one will be longer :3 what will Rose do next? *le gasp*   
> comments, kudos, bookmarks, all are appreciated!


	3. The Daily Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose has to make a report, Kanaya is gullible, and Feferi chats about her girlfriend. The plot thickens. Shenanigans ensue.

Rose Lalonde. An interesting name. This woman was lovely, hidden behind all sorts of walls that she had built up, but something seemed off about her. Rather than the usual reaction of surprise, fear, confusion, or disbelief that I usually got upon people hearing my name, she seemed to become immediately exhausted, as though all of the energy had been drained out of her. She threw back her drink as though it was the only thing saving her. Her bangs were pale and messy, and a purple headband held back her hair. She was wearing black tights, a purple skirt, black combat boots, and a white t shirt. She looked like any other college student. 

“What do you study?” I asked her, curious.

“What?” She looked at me, bewildered.

“You look like you’re in college- I was just wondering what you studied.” She seemed to relax some, the tension slipping from her shoulders.

“Yeah, this is my last semester at college. I’m majoring in… psychology. Minoring in literature.” I nodded. She seemed the studious sort; it was fitting for her.

“Do you write much, then?”

“Eh, sometimes. I like journalism quite a bit, but I’ve never written professionally.”

I wasn’t quite sure what else to say to her. She wasn’t all that talkative, in fact, it looked like she was desperately trying to figure out how to escape from the situation. Was I that unapproachable? I wondered what she was thinking, and was still staring at her curiously when Feferi, the barista, returned to chat some. Somebody I could actually talk to, thank goodness.

“Shello! There’s a bit of a lull in business right now, so I thought I shoald come over to chat some!”

“It’s always a pleasure to speak with you, Feferi. How is Nepeta doing these days?” Nepeta was Feferi’s longtime girlfriend, and was always a good topic of conversation with Feferi, as she loved to talk about the cat girl and her antics.

“My gillfrond is doing purr-ety well these days!” she said, with a giggle. “But I have got to tell you what she did the other day. She works at the animal shelter, you know, and there were all of these kittens that came in over the weekend. Well, you know how she loves her cats…” I watched Rose out of the corner of my eye, as Feferi continued to tell us the story of how her girlfriend ended up taking home a litter of kittens to foster, and how one of them escaped out the backdoor and was chased by the two of them all over town. Usually, I would be paying more attention, but although Rose seemed engaged by the story, she seemed to be rather fidgety and, after checking a watch, rather alarmed.

“You’ll have to excuse me for just a moment while I run to the restroom,” she announced, standing up abruptly.

“I have to use the facilities as well; I’ll join you. I’m so sorry to interrupt your story; it sounds like quite the adventure,” I apologized to Feferi.

“Aw, shell, it’s no problem!” Feferi replied, waving me on. I turned to Rose, who seemed distraught at the idea that I would be accompanying her. I wondered what had, for lack of a better term, “gotten her goat”.

\--

I was expected to report in under a quarter of an hour, and there was no way I could say anything while Kanaya Maryam herself was listening in and watching me. I knew she thought there was something off about me- maybe it was the hesitation in trying to come up with a plausible college major? It wasn’t exactly a lie; I had learned quite a bit about the human brain while studying to be a government agent. At the time, the academy and the training had seemed like the highest caliber of learning for all the skills I would ever need. But I hadn’t learned how to lose people without looking like I was trying to lose them, apparently, because the singer was still following me. I schooled my emotions and calmed down. Looking anxious was not going to help my case.

I ducked into the bathroom, noting that there were three stalls in the dingy light, and that there was one slim window on the side as a fire escape (or an escape from a government crackdown- one could never be quite sure which). Maybe if I could get that stall closest to the window, escape outside, report quietly before Kanaya left the building… I would need to change my appearance, somehow, in that short amount of time. It was simply implausible. The first step, though, would be to get away, to be alone. I wondered if it was loud enough in the crowd that I could whisper and get away with talking into my disposable phone, despite my not being allowed to have it in the building me. I looked under the stalls for feet, trying to gain some time. Only one was empty- perfect. 

“Please, go ahead. I don’t mind waiting,” I told Kanaya, waving her on. She seemed immediately displeased, and I wonder what I had done wrong.

“Just because many think of me as a celebrity doesn’t mean that I like special treatment,” she said to me in a clipped voice, eyes closed off, emotionless. I was bewildered for a moment; I had just been trying to make an escape! But I realized quickly that she must’ve gotten this treatment often from people trying to suck up to her or get into her good graces. I couldn’t help it- I laughed. My reasons were entirely self-serving, and she had no idea. She looked at me as though I had gone mad.

“I’m sorry, it’s just- that’s not the reason I offered to let you go ahead at all! I just realized that I left my purse out by the bar and I didn’t want you to have to wait while I went back to grab it.” I hoped that Kanaya hadn’t noticed the fact that I didn’t bring a purse with me to Jules, or I would be screwed for sure.

“Oh,” her gaze softened, “allow me to go grab it for you. What does it look like?”

“There’s no need for that, really,” I started to insist, but she cut me off.

“Nonsense. Now, are you going to tell me what it looks like, or am I going to have to grab every purse that I find?” I had no choice; her mind was made up. I pictured one of the bags I had seen another woman bring with her.

“Oh, it’s small and black. Shoulder strap. Golden clasp. Really, though, you don’t have to do this for me.” I tried one last time.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised, with a small smile to me.

The second she had left, I was at the window, undoing the clasp and jumping to get up through the opening. I wormed my way through, doing my best to make the window look undisturbed once I was out. A flush warned me I was about to have to explain myself if I didn’t move quickly, so I took off at a run through the alleyway, pausing in a gap between two houses once I turned the corner. I checked my watch; I had gotten out with two minutes to spare. I opened my phone and made the call.

\--

I had looked for ten minutes now, and couldn’t for the life of me find any purse that looked like the description Rose had given me. I felt awful; what if somebody had made off with it in the short time we had left for the restrooms? I was going to have to break the news to her as gently as possible, I supposed, though she didn’t seem like one that got overly attached to material possessions. Not that I knew her well enough to deduce something like that… but I couldn’t help but feel that I had known the strange girl for longer than this one night. I had definitely seen her face before, at least, or I thought I had. It seemed familiar to me, though I couldn’t place it. Ah, well, I just hoped that she wouldn’t be too upset.

I pushed open the door to the bathrooms, but there was no sign of Rose. I figured that a stall had opened while she was waiting, and she probably took it after a few minutes of my being gone. I didn’t blame her; I had been gone for a rather long while. One of the stalls was still open, so I decided that, since she would be out soon, I would just run in. Washing my hands, minutes later, I began to get nervous. 

“Rose?” I called. There was no response, and checking under stall doors, I realized there were no feet. Had she gone out looking for me? She might have; I could’ve missed her in the crowd. We probably had just passed each other. I turned to leave the bathroom and look for her, when I felt a sudden chill against my back. The bathroom wasn’t usually this cold, was it? I turned.

The window was cracked slightly, letting in cool night air. It certainly hadn’t been open earlier when we came in; it was making the room significantly colder. Had Rose gone out through the window? Did she even bring a purse with her to the bar? I couldn’t remember her having one at all, which meant she had lied to me. Why had she lied? Her anxiety made more sense to me now; she had needed to go somewhere and couldn’t with me watching, so she had tried to lose me. And succeeded. I cursed myself for being so gullible, for even offering to look for her purse, for doing anything nice for her. She was a liar, and I was never going to see her again, even though I wanted to know so much more about her. And then it hit me like a freight train- she had seen me sing. And she knew my name. How much money would she get for releasing a scandal like that? I sank to the floor, head in my arms. This night was only bound to get so, so much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose is a sucky agent and should be fired... of course, she's only this terrible because it is Convenient For The Plot, but even so, she's way too obvious. Will Kanaya ever see her again? le gasp
> 
> i own none of these characters. i own only my own gay (there's a lot of it) and some shitty writing
> 
> kudos, comments, bookmarks, etc. are all appreciated 100% thanks fam


	4. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's Dave and much shenanigans. Whatever will Rose do? Is Kanaya pissed? (why yes, she is, bc she's gay. and has just been ditched. i would be pissed, too.)

I had done it. I had lied to my superiors, given the hottest subject I’d ever traced the slip, and completely screwed myself over in more ways than one. Oh boy. What a day. My fingers moved their way along the keyboard almost of their own accord, and before I could think about what I was doing, the phone was to my ear.

“Sup,” came a voice rough from sleep. “Who’s this?”

“Dave,” I bit out, “I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a pickle and require your assistance.”

“Oh, hey, sis! Been awhile since I’ve heard from you. How’s your fancy new job off in paradise?”

“Not quite all it’s cracked up to be, I’m afraid. How are you doing in Texas, then?” Why my blatantly gay brother lived in such a blatantly homophobic place, I could never understand. Not to mention the heat. I had only been here three days, and already I was a mess. Ugh, I had no idea how he managed it.

“It’s actually pretty nice out here. Not much happening. What’d you say you needed from me?”

“Ah. Well, about that… I happen to be in the area, though I’m not supposed to have told you, and I was wondering if we could meet up while I’m here? We can talk more then, catch up. I really missed you, and wanted to say hi while I was close to you.” We both knew this was one of the biggest lies I’d ever told, but we also both knew that my phone was almost certainly tapped. Better to get in trouble for telling my brother where I was than to get in trouble for not turning in a singer, who had seen me, who had talked to me, and who I was helping. Yikes. I would lose a job and a life over that one.

“Oh, I see,” Dave drawled -I could picture the smirk- “no prob, sis. Hey, why don’t you meet me by that steak place we both love?” I was vegetarian.

“Sounds… lovely,” I responded, trying hard not to snap the phone shut or throw it across the street, though I certainly wanted to do both.

“See you in five, sweetheart. I’ll send the address to your number.” I hung up on him, grimace stretched across my face. I had not missed my twin at all.

\--

I left, unusually upset. I walked blindly, hardly noticing where I was going. Rose Lalonde, girl who I had found intriguing, girl who I had thought had talent, girl who I couldn't get a read on, girl who was probably about to turn me in- I was such a fool. I had absolutely been played, and she was going to make me pay for my mistakes. I only briefly entertained the notion that she wouldn't turn me in. Maybe she liked me enough? I doubted it. She had been in a real big hurry to ditch me and leave, and nobody acted that suspicious (not to mention rude) unless they had something big to do. Like create the biggest scandal of the year. Oh boy. 

I tried not to think about it as I walked home, head tilted up to see the stars. I liked the walk back. The cool air felt good on my skin after having been trapped amongst strangers all night. The glow of the streetlights made my shadow flicker across the sidewalks, becoming tall and almost grotesque. My hair, messy, gave the impression of being horns. I smiled a little, allowing myself to be amused by the ridiculous idea.

I almost dropped my keys at the shadowy figure in my doorway. Who had come to visit at this hour? What did they want from me? Had I finally been caught? Was it Rose? My heart racing, fingers trembling, I cleared my throat, making no move to head towards the door. I was ready to run if I had to. I had things I could use as weapons, if the need arose.

“Weeeeeeeell, it took you long enough,” she said, glasses glinting in the light from the streetlamp as she turned to face me.

\--

I was waiting in a booth in the back long before he ever arrived, watching the people come in the doorway. It was in the back because I had been lead there by a smiling waitress, not because I wanted to be. Too conspicuous, you always looked like you were up to something shady if you sat in the back, generally speaking. Not that I was up to anything that shady. Which was a lie.

He didn’t even walk, he sauntered. The fucking nerve of my brother, dear lord. He slid into the bench across from me, pushing his shades further up on the bridge of his nose, one elbow on the table. I regretted ever contacting him.

“Hey, sis, long time no see,” he said as way of greeting.

“Yes, yes, can we skip the pleasantries? I’m in a major pickle and I’ve no idea where to go from here.”

“Wow, what’d you get yourself into this time? You’re not usually this frazzled.”

We paused to order drinks, to go, before going for a walk. We didn’t want to be overheard- it was easy to be bugged anywhere, but it would be harder to hear us over the wind. It took a while to explain exactly everything that had gone down: being assigned to the mysterious woman, her singing, being approached by her while waiting to tail her, discovering her identity as Kanaya Maryam -at this, Dave’s eyebrows rose over the top of his shades- trying to lose her, having to call in and lie to those I worked for, and losing her in the process. Not that it would be hard to find her again; I did, after all, know where she lived. Dave processed all of this in a silence that was highly unusual for him.

“Well?” I turned to him. “What am I supposed to do now? I tail her, she recognizes me. I call in to say I’ve been approached, they send in somebody else to tail her and catch her. They catch her after receiving no updates from me, we’re both in deep horseshit.”

“No fucking duh,” was his intelligent reply. “Fucking hell, sis. How did you even manage this? Like, there are no words for how fucked you are right now. Why couldn’t you fucking, like, turn her in? What’s stopping you? You’d be let off. You know that singing is illegal!”

“David Elizabeth Strider. Shut your mouth and listen to me. What this woman did, what she created, is the single most incredible thing I have ever witnessed in my entire life and I would not give that experience up for the world. I would rather die, I would rather be executed, I would rather risk my life for her, than to have her silenced. Do you understand?”

We were both silent for a long moment. Dave tilted his head to the side, considering me.

“You must really love this woman,” he said in response.

“Only her voice,” I replied, with a waning attempt at a smile.

\--

“Ah, Vriska. It’s been awhile,” I said, trying to hold myself together. Vriska Serket and I went back many years; she had been my first crush, the perpetrator of violence that tore our friend group apart in college, and a bringer of trouble wherever she went. And yet. There was something compelling about her. Maybe it was because I had been there for her throughout the years, and had seen her cry, been her shoulder to lean on. Maybe it was because I designed the dress she wore when she went out on a date, one that I later learned was with a mutual friend, Tavros. Maybe it was because she was beautiful, or because she was dangerous, or because she was flirtatious, or because she was a pain in the ass.

“Didja miss me?” came her sing-song voice from my doorway. I took her in. She was slouched against the pillar of my doorstep, long hair tangled over her shoulder, coat torn and patchy. I hadn’t missed her at all. Maybe that was a lie.

“Why don’t you come in so that we can talk?” I asked, moving to push past her to the doorway. My hands shook as I fumbled with the keys, trying to get them into the lock. I could feel her eyes raking across my body.  
“Time has done you plenty of good, huh?” she asked me, and I could hear the smirk in her voice as I finally got the door open.

“Come in,” I told her, flipping the switch. “How does tea sound?”

“That’s fine,” she said, making herself comfortable in my living room. She looked even worse now that I could see her in the light. Shadows under her eyes, glasses cracked, fingernails ragged and filthy. She clearly hadn’t showered in a while, and it looked like she hadn’t gotten much rest, either. I busied myself with making tea, so that it wouldn’t seem like I was staring.

With the tea finally steeped, I poured two cups, setting hers before her, sitting across her in a chair. 

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to for the past year while you drink that?” She glanced up at me, before lowering her eyes to her cup.

“Well…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bwahahahahaha what will vriska say? le gasp  
> so much gay  
> so much  
> i own nothing dont sue me  
> im rly tired sorry it's been so long since ive posted  
> comment/kudos/etc v much appreciated


	5. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vriska's story, confusion, and a proposition. Whatever shall be done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS SO SHORT AGAIN but the last time I updated was like September so anything's better than nothing at this point, right?

Vriska sighed, pushing hair out of her face, and I had a feeling this was going to be a long story. 

“You remember how I was in college, right? Always causing trouble, playing with peoples’ feelings, getting into all sorts of shit, and yeah, it wasn’t exactly nice of me, but it was a sort of way to keep myself safe.” I nodded. That was something I had guessed, and wasn’t all that surprised to find confirmed.

“My home life was… less than ideal. And I kind of projected onto other people. All sorts of things that I shouldn’t have done, I did. I messed around with John, Tavros, hell, even you.” I couldn’t help jerking my head up at the small acknowledgement of the false hope she had given me. Was she maturing? 

“Somebody’s growing up,” I murmured with a smirk, stirring my tea idly.

“No, okay, shut up and listen,” she gritted out, but without any real venom behind it.

“Aaaaaaaanyways, I graduated college with a degree in history and marine exploration and no credentials to speak of. No support, no friends, no family. I had to rely on myself, which wasn’t something I minded that much. After all, I’m used to having aaaaaaaall the irons in the fire,” she said with a flick of her hair. I knew she was lying, she had been lonely and hurt, but she had too much pride to admit it. Had anything changed?

“I’m not gonna lie to you, I got into some bad shit. It was kinda scary there for a while, and I wasn’t sure what I was doing. Got involved with bad people, hooked up with Makara there for a while,” I shuddered at the mention of our old friend’s name, “dealt to some sketchy people. Got into a knife fight once,” she paused to lift up her shirt and show me a ragged pink scar stretched across her hip, “and nearly bled out. Not that anybody cared, some stranger off the street helped me back onto my feet. After that, there was no way I was going back. I’d had enough trouble from the Makaras and everything that came with them. So I found a ship and left.” She paused to take a long sip of tea, letting her eyes fall closed. She was in bad shape, and I couldn’t help but be insatiably curious. What had she been doing all this time?

“Now that, that was what I had been made to do! Born to do! We were the fiercest fucking pirates out there; we didn’t bow to anybody. I was captain before long, though it took a lot of fighting to claw my way up the ranks. But damn was it worth it. The sea was incredible, and so was being in control. They had to bow to me, they served me, they looked up to me. We plundered ships, and got into races, and ran from the law to see how far we could get. There’s nothing like it,” she insisted, her eyes glittering almost cruelly.

“Why did you leave, then?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Why are you here?”

“I’m getting there, Fussyfangs,” she smirked, leaning back in her chair.

“If you break that chair, you’re buying me a new one,” I raised my eyebrows at her, and she heaved a sigh before slamming the legs back to the floor. I winced at the noise.

“Jeeeeeeeez, you’re worse than my mom was,” she rolled her eyes. “But as I was saying, pirating was great. Until my crew was caught and hung while I was forced to watch.” I nearly spat out my tea.

“Wait, what?” I asked, astonished, after I had finished coughing.

“They thought it would be crueler to force me to watch them hung first, and then hang me after,” she said nonchalantly, “so I beat up the guards, killed a few people, got some strings pulled, and broke out after the rope dropped on my first mate. And then I wasn’t sure where to go, but I heard you were in the area. You’ve made quite the name for yourself, by the way, you’re nearly all anybody’s talking about these days.” I gave a halfhearted smile at her words.

“Unfortunately for me, I’m going to be all that anybody’s talking about for the next few years, after they kill me,” I said sadly, dropping my head to the table. Damn me for being gullible, and damn Rose for being gorgeous, and damn everything for being complicated.

“Whoa there, missy, what d’you mean?” Vriska asked, setting the cup down on the table. I sighed, and told her the whole story of the night’s events. 

She let out an appreciative whistle after I had finished. “Damn, we are both in some deep shit,” she said with a chuckle. I nodded in agreement.

“Hey, do you mind if I shower?” she asked after a beat of silence.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, where’s my mind gone?” I cried, jumping out of my seat. “Here’s a towel—I’ll make you some clothes while you’re bathing, don’t worry—the bathroom is that way—“

“Slow down, Fussyfangs,” she said, corner of her mouth turned up. She moved closer to me, still smirking. “We’ve got all the time in the world,” she continued, tilting her head and pressing her lips to mine.

She left me, feeling more confused than ever, standing in the hallway with my stomach churning.

\---

“So, any suggestions, wise guy?” I asked him, staring into his shades. He took a moment, taking a deep pull of his drink (apple juice—had they even sold apple juice at the restaurant? Where had he gotten that?) before responding.

“There’s only one thing to do, sis,” he intoned gravely.

“What, pray tell, is that, oh all-knowing brother dearest?”

“Change your name, chop off all your hair, and move to Skaia.” I couldn’t help it, I snorted.

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind-” I began, but he cut me off.

“Oh, and bring your girlfriend with you so that they don’t hunt her down and kill her anyways,” he added.

“Great, I’ll just move off-planet, then. May as well move to Derse, that’s just about as far away!” I cried, nearly hysterically, throwing my hands up. Dave turned to look at me.

“Look, sis, I’m not joking. John and I are considering going; Jade’s willing to take us out there. You know she’s been studying astrophysics for years now, she could probably get us there if she wanted to. At this point, the only other thing you can do is keep trailing her and reporting, or pretend to trail her while staying home, which you know isn’t an option because they track your phone. Move around, do something, but you can’t pretend that nothing’s up forever! You know they asked you after her for a reason, and it’s not just because they thought it would be fun for you. So do this one thing for me, and consider it?” His words sunk in slowly, and I nodded after a bit.

“I’ll think on it, but only because I trust Harley to get us there in one piece,” I say, giving him a nudge. “Hey, and speaking of John, how’re things going with the two of you?” Dave groaned and buried his head in his hands.

“He’s still oblivious, what shall I ever do?” he cried with a fake swoon. “Rose, I must confess my undying affections for the man, and yet, he is still ‘no-homo’ing it out! I am doomed to an unrequited love for the rest of my life. This is how I die, Rose, from a broken heart. Nothing can save me now, nothing. I bequeath to you my shitty katanas and the Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff franchise. Keep it going strong in my memory, darling sister,” he intoned, fake sobbing. I rolled my eyes, though it was good to see my brother back from unusually-serious-land. 

“I shall do my best, Sir Dave, never fear,” I deadpanned.

“Good,” he said with a nod.

We parted soon afterwards, and I headed home, shaking my head. I had a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahahahahaha I couldn't help but throw in some kanvris sue me  
> I own nothing pls don't actually sue me  
> Longer chapter to come at some point, ayyyyyy

**Author's Note:**

> chapter 1 is done... chapter 2 soon to come *cackles evilly*  
> lmk what u think, like, bookmark, comment, etc. etc. its going to be fun im excited  
> as usual: no, i dont own homestuck. i would probably either be dead or way more popular or both  
> byeeeeeee <3


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